


A Heaviness That's Gone

by Teddog



Series: Fate Week 2021 [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teddog/pseuds/Teddog
Summary: A conversation between friends about a lingering questionFate Week Day 1: Memory
Series: Fate Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102640
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Fate Week 2021 Fic Collection





	A Heaviness That's Gone

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoiler Warning:** Heretical Salem. 
> 
> **Content Warning:** Alcohol use.

“We could always ask Bill how to deal with the problem.”

It took a moment for Robin to realize exactly who Mata Hari was referring to by “Bill”. He never would have guessed that Shakespeare was her type. 

“I didn’t realize you two were on a first name basis.” Robin peered at the woman over the edge of his scotch glass. Her own cup was too full to blame the liquor for her comments. 

Mata Hari smirked sloppily and sank deeper into her chair. Robin could have sworn she was blushing. There was no way she was that drunk already. 

“I offered to do some consulting work after we got back. While Bill has talent as an author, he lacks the perspective of a modern performer. None of his recent works would fit in a Greatest Hits collection.” 

Robin debated bringing up that Mata Hari had challenged one of history’s greatest authors, then immediately decided against it. Defending the playwright Caster wasn’t worth the effort, fellow countryman or not. 

Sanson spoke up instead, his voice full of curiosity. “You’re script doctoring for Shakespeare?” 

“More than scripts,” Mata Hari said, speaking partly into her chest. “You two should read what he’s working on for next year’s Servant Summer Festival. The woman lead was terribly underwritten when the manuscript crossed my desk. Now? I think it’ll sell out before lunch.”

“Yeah, but do you think he’ll let you have any credit?” Robin asked. It was more likely that Shakespeare would ask Mata Hari to man the convention booth than put her name on the cover. 

Mata Hari shrugged, picking up what Robin was putting down. “I’m used to it.” 

It was Sanson who proposed tonight’s meeting: find one of Chaldea’s lounges and spend time discussing any topic that came to their minds. The Assassin didn’t directly state that the mission to Salem inspired the idea. He didn’t need to. 

Robin was apprehensive at first. He was never very social while he was alive. Death hadn’t changed his habits much. 

Against his instincts, Robin accepted the invitation. If pressured for an explanation as to why, the Archer would claim that Sanson offered to prepare food and Mata Hari was providing drinks from her personal stash. It would be rude to turn down the offers.

Some Servants used their good fortune to amass countless wealth. Robin was comfortable with not starving. 

“Back to my earlier thought,” Mata Hari continued, shuffling back up into a proper sitting position. “Bill wrote plays dealing with amnesia and lost memories. Some of his ideas might have a fragment of truth to him. We could get his help pulling your missing week from wherever it disappeared to.” 

“I don’t want it back,” Sanson said firmly. 

“You said you wondered about it.” If Mata Hari was frustrated by his reaction, she didn’t let it show in her face nor voice. 

“I said I wondered about those memories, not that I want them,” Sanson explained. “They’re a double edged sword. I’ve drawn my conclusions about what happened in Salem. What happens if a truth hidden in those lost memories clashes with the truth I hold now?”

Robin considered that for a moment. His own memories were fragmented and twisted, the result of the Throne of Heroes tossing together someone who could pass for the legendary Robin Hood. His sense of identity was more like a patchwork quilt than a continuous piece of cloth. Robin could cope with the uncertainty on a good day. Under pressure, his self-doubts would rise closer to the surface. 

“Anyway, it’s not important,” Sanson said, realizing he had stunned the room into complete silence. “Can you tell us more about this manuscript, Margaretha?” 

\---

Postscript: I found out about Fate Week at 10pm on the first day. So! I figured I would take the prompt as literally as possible. I might stick with the Salem crew for later prompts this week because they’re my favs. 

This was inspired by a draft piece of dialogue in my fic Infinite Regress that didn’t make it into the final version:   
_“Is this like one of those plays that Shakespeare talks about, where magic happens and you remember everything that was forgotten?”_  
_“I don’t think that’s going to happen here.”_


End file.
